The Writer

Looking in the mirror Ana hardly recognised the girl that stared back at her. She looked too coiffed and doll like. Inhuman. Only the eyes were recognisable. The clothes weren’t something she’d normally wear either but Christoph had laid them out on the bed, declaring he wanted her to wear them so she would.

“You look beautiful Anastasia,” he whispered proudly as he came up behind her and kissed her cheek. When he asked if she remembered the script he’d given her for tonight Ana could only nod, and attempt to convince herself that she wasn’t slowly losing her identity.

Timshel

The pain was immediate. She couldn’t even think. The icy water felt like knives and her limbs seized as she gasped, vision clouding as she inhaled, feeling the water freezing her from within. Closing her eyes in acceptance Ana let herself sink barely aware as someone tugged her towards the surface. Ana’s eyes snapped open as she felt ice under her, her lungs working to expel the water from her body as Aleksandr cradled her to him.

“Again,” Ana demanded.

Aleksandr nodded as he helped her back to her feet. Grasping his hand she plunged back into the frozen depths.

Papa Can You Hear Me?

“I still remember all the books we read together, we were in the middle of Utopia, I never finished it… I thought I would have forgotten by now, everyone seems to assume that I would have but I haven’t. I’ve been a good girl like I promised Papa but…” Ana broke off in a sob, dropping to her knees in front of the headstone. “I love and miss you so much Papa. I’m nearly grown now but I’m so scared. I just want to make you proud if you’re watching over me but I’m not sure how to do that.”

Saturn

Ana made sure the camera was recording before sitting down at her boudoir grand while pushing her hair off her face. “I heard this song earlier today and it reminded me of you. It’s a little sad I guess, but also beautiful. I love you Terry. More than I thought possible."

She smiled shyly at the camera, suddenly self-conscious, as she started to play, fingers moving effortlessly. “You taught me the courage of stars before you left. How life carries on endlessly, even after death,” Ana began, looking straight at the camera as she sang her heart out to Terry.

You’ve never truly understood classical music, although you suppose it is beautiful when played correctly. The intricacies of it, you are unashamed to admit, go a bit above your head. Still, you’ve gone to enough symphonies with your husband to know that the violinist is playing masterfully. It’s Vivaldi you think, one of the four seasons, perhaps Spring, although you do not know for sure. His attention is focussed entirely on his newborn, another daughter you recall your husband telling you, laying in her crib, a delighted smile on his face as she quieted, falling asleep to her fathers playing.

The man was playing his violin again, this time you were sure it was Vivaldi’s Summer, you’ve heard it enough times over the years what with it being your husbands favourite piece. It appeared he was playing a game with his children, one that was apparently providing them with endless amusement if their high-pitched laughter was any indication. Whenever the music reached a crescendo so to did the children’s playing as they spun around the yard, weaving in and out of each other’s reach, the elder children seemingly chasing their younger sister. When the music slowed so did their dance.

The house is being shut up, cloths cover the furniture to prevent dust and boxes are placed in the front yard waiting to be carried to the waiting cars. You cannot remember a time when the house has seemed so quiet, even though all the children had been at school for a few years now. You suppose it’s different, knowing that they’re all inside and yet there’s still no laughter, not even from the youngest daughter who was always so rambunctious before. Now whenever you catch a glimpse of her she looks solemn, dressed from head to toe in black.

When your granddaughter told you she’d seen a young woman playing the piano in the house across the street you thought she was imagining things. That house had been empty for five years now, the children having moved out after their fathers passing. It seemed she’d been telling the truth though. A young woman, no doubt the youngest daughter who your husband informed you inherited the house under her fathers will, was standing in the music room playing the violin with as much expertise as the man had and for a minute you thought you saw him guiding her hands.

Oh Death

“Daddy. I feel cold,” Stasya whispered weakly before her body was wracked with coughs. The whole room felt icy, but she knew that she had a fever. She’d overheard her parents when they thought she was asleep, apparently it was bad. Bad enough that babushka had called for the priest despite mama’s protests. Stasya wasn’t sure why mama didn’t want the priest. She thought it was nice that he was praying for her, although she didn’t like having to give confession.

Ana slowly sunk to the ground, unable to conjure her Patronus as the Dementor drew out her worst memory.

May 2067 – Home with Mama and Babushka Yekaterina.

July 2070 – Marseilles with Dmitry and Sevastyan.

September 2070 – Botswana with Sasha and Liza.

November 2074 – Providence with Aunt Rosalie.

December 2076 – Auckland with Katya and Vaska.

May 2077 – Egypt with Papa.

January 2079 – Moscow with Babushka Stasya.

July 2081 – Corsica with Aunt Lucrezia.

February 2082 – Tokyo with Alexei.

August 2084 – London with Terry.

Ana flicked through the photo album, pausing on a few of her favourite pictures, smiling at the memories they evoked. Even when she was far from home she’d never been alone, there had always been someone with her.

You’re just like your mother

Ana flinched as her Babushkas words registered. She’d gotten a variation of it her whole life and from most people it would be a compliment. From her Babushka the words might as well be a physical blow.

Taking a deep breath Ana pulled her shoulders back, standing tall and looking her babushka in the eye like her Mama had taught her to. Feeling brave Ana spoke back for the first time. ”I’m proud of that. Mama is a good woman. Besides, people also say I'm like you. In the end though I’m my own person.”

“She might be one of the most annoying people I’ve ever had the displeasure of knowing. She’s constantly ‘borrowing’ my things,” here Ana broke off to send a pointed look Katya’s way. Her little sister had once again appropriated Ana’s clothing and she had no doubt she’d never get it back. “Blaming me for things she's done and sticking her nose into my business but if you hurt her I promise you I’ll hex you back to the Stone Age. Or maybe Siberia, I hear it’s nice this time of year,” Ana threatened, before leaving Katya alone with her date.

Stasya shuffled nervously in front of Liza’s door, unsure if she should knock or just go away. She’d made Liza mad earlier, but she hadn’t meant to. She’d just been so excited about seeing Mama and Katya and Vaska and had forgotten that Liza didn’t like being reminded of their Mama and younger siblings. Stasya wasn’t really sure why Liza didn’t like them but she didn’t want her to be mad anymore. She wanted to go outside and play like they normally did and get hugs and kisses and tell Liza that she loved her more than anyone besides Daddy.

Stasya tiptoed into the study, her teddy bear held close to her chest as she zeroed in on her Daddy. He was slumped in his chair, which just wasn’t right. Daddy never slouched and he didn’t even notice she was in the room. Stasya tugged at his sleeve until he looked down, attempting to muster a smile for her benefit and wiping away his tears. “Daddy, please don’t cry” Stasya begged, upset that her Daddy was so unhappy. “Yuri’ll make everything better.” she told him, with confidence only a child could have as she pushed her teddy into his arms.

Stasya giggled with delight as she was swept up into her Papa’s arms and waltzed around the Ballroom. She wasn’t all that good at waltzing yet, according to her teacher but Papa didn’t mind; he just put her on his feet so that she’d be able to keep up.

.....

Ana could waltz by herself now, not that Aleksandr seemed to care about that. As soon as she’d agreed to dance he’d lifted her up onto his feet, just like Papa used too. As she laid her head on his shoulder she could almost pretend that those times weren’t forever over.

Ana flinched when the sound of a door slamming reverberated throughout the house, followed by the sound of her mother and Alexei fighting. Again. Sighing she finished curling her hair and tightened the straps on her shoes. The fighting had become so commonplace that Ana could practically recite the whole argument. She could hardly stand it and was out the door as soon as was humanely possible. Ana wasn’t even sure, where she was going, all she knew was that it was Saturday night and she needed to escape for a few hours, or for forever, she hadn’t decided yet.

Oh. So this is what it feels like.

Ana had almost forgotten, although she wasn’t sure she’d ever actually felt this way before. She’d come close, but never had Ana felt like this. Like the world was brighter, clearer and better just because another person was in it. Ana had never been happy with changing schools but now she was glad that she’d transferred to Hogwarts so that she could have this feeling again. Smiling fondly at Terry Ana snuggled further into his side, basking in his affection. She wasn’t ready to tell him yet but she would be soon.

”Oh Aleksandr,” Ana murmured sadly as she took in the sight of her older brother huddled under the duvet, as if trying to block out the world.

”It’s sunny today, we’re going to have a picnic…” she trailed off when she didn’t get any response.

Ana slowly slipped into bed next to Aleksandr, and wrapped her arms around him, trying to offer comfort she wasn’t entirely sure how to give. ”Or we could just stay here if you aren’t ready to get up yet, she reassured him, gratified when he returned her tentative embrace and finally allowed himself to cry.

“Just where do you think you’re going young lady?”

Ana started as the voice drifted from the darkness, turning sharply and only relaxing when her mother emerged from the living room.

“Well Anastasia?” Natalya asked, eyeing Ana impatiently.

“There’s a party tonight, Alexei said it was fine if I went…” Well he hadn’t really but he hadn’t objected to her going. She had hoped to be gone before her mother noticed though. “Besides, I’m not a child anymore Mama, I’ll be fine,” Ana added, exasperatedly when her mother went to protest, walking out the door before Natalya could stop her.